


Starving.

by theweakestthing



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: AU, M/M, Suicide, demon, magic-ish stuff, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sarumi) AU. Fushimi Saruhiko, twenty six years of age, sits at a bar seducing women and pretending that he is happy, he does this every day.  He has a well paying job, a nice open plan apartment, a fuel efficient car and the pick of the ladies; he is vacuous. He is cold, distant and likes to think that the world is too. This place has nothing new to offer him, the same things happen every day, nothing surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fushimi Saruhiko, thirteen years of age, sat bleeding in his bathroom. Wrists gouged and spewing blood all over the tiled floor. It begins to pool around his limp body and he wishes that he'd have just shot himself instead, dying like this was tedious. 

A figure stepped into the room from an impossible space, smokey and dark. Sits itself upon the toilet as though it were a recliner, legs crossed. It leaned down toward Fushimi, curling a long boney finger under his chin raising his eyes to a black hole of a face. 

"What are we going to do about this Saru-chan?" Voice like a thousand voices speaking out of sync twisted in the air.

Fushimi looked up at the entity face marred with disdain, eyes glazed over with boredom. 

"Are you here to collect me?" His voice was weak and far away, it irritated him. 

"I'm here for your soul, your body we can leave behind," it waved Fushimi off. "Your attitude disappoints me Saru-chan," the smile is evident in its voice despite the lack of a face. 

"You don't sound disappointed," Fushimi eyed him. 

"You might not think so, but there are millions of boys like you out there," either the world was getting darker or the entity was expanding its presence throughout the room. "Boys that think they're different, boys that pretend they aren't afraid of anything, boys that think this world holds nothing for them," it loomed over Fushimi. "You, despite your internalisation, despite the reflection of yourself that you project, are not unique," it sighed, "but you could have been, what a waste," its gesture was wide and covered Fushimi's vision. 

"Your disappointment in me means nothing if I don't know who you are, are you the reaper come to collect my soul?" Fushimi sneered. 

"I am not the reaper nor am I death, you have no name for me," the voice was low like a warning growl of a wolf, "people seem to be afraid of the unknown," the sound of a smile came quickly back to its voice, Fushimi noted its eccentricity.

"And what about the people that seek the unknown?" Fushimi weakly cocked his brow, coughing at with the effort. 

"Everyone dies eventually, some before others," the smoke twisted tall and speared the heavens. "How would you like to live Saru-chan?" it encroached upon Fushimi's personal space. 

"I think it's a bit late for that," he weakly shifted his arms. 

"I am not of your world and thus am not bound by the laws of it," it stated, "C'mon Saru-chan, it's a once in a life time offer," it giggled bending backward. 

"And what do you get out of this?" Fushimi scowled, "You can't expect me to believe that you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart," he said flatly. 

"We'll play a game and we'll play for it for as long as necessary, you like games don't you Saru-chan?" it bent impossibly sideways, Fushimi just stared at it awaiting the punch line. "I do need to eat, but I much prefer games and I'm not heartless," it breathed at him, smoke flowing in waves. "I like you Saru-chan, you're a real fun guy to watch," it laughed giddily. 

"Just get to the ultimatum, I am dying here," Fushimi droned, slapping his hands against the tiles. 

"Ah Saru-chan, so young and impatient," it twist around him like a cloud of smoke, it sighed the thunderous look in Fushimi's eyes. "You can choose to die here or you can die like you were supposed to, the cost of choosing the latter is what you really want to know though, isn't it?" the entity was obviously getting pleasure from drawing this out. 

"Continue," Fushimi whispered. 

"I will be there for as long as it takes, watching and waiting for something to come along, something so precious to you and I'll take it as payment for my kindness," it stated.

"Che, so you're demon then?" Fushimi asked staring into the darkest point of the entity. 

"Something like that, but like I said you don't have a name for me," it drifted in the stale air. "So what do you say Saru-chan?" it bent sharply at an angle punctuating its cheery tone. 

"So I get to live, have a sort of demon thing follow me around and I get an incentive to not fall in love," he sneered and the entity stilled, "it sounds almost too good to be true," Fushimi smiled. "Do I have to shake your hand or something?" He smirked.

"The deal is done Fushimi Saruhiko," the voice stated in so many voices that it encompassed Fushimi's senses, the boy winced, "and it cannot be undone," those were its parting for when Fushimi opened his eyes he only saw himself. 

He was standing in front of the mirror as he had been when the ingenious idea of suicide came to his mind. Fushimi blinked at his reflection, razor in hand. He put the razor away and brushed his teeth instead, dismissing the entire ordeal. 

~~~

Fushimi Saruhiko, twenty six years of age, sits at a bar seducing women and pretending that he is happy, he does this every day. He has a well paying job, a nice open plan apartment, a fuel efficient car and the pick of the ladies; he is vacuous. He is cold, distant and likes to think that the world is too. This place has nothing new to offer him, the same things happen every day, nothing surprises him. 

People whisper that he has a shadow on his shoulder, whisper that only a dark magic could make someone so beautiful so twisted. People pity him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So folks, this isn't going to be nice as you can see so don't expect anything like my other sarumi fics, but since you're sarumi shippers you're a strong lot that can hold out through all sorts of angst so I hope you stick with this darker turn in my writing.


	2. Chapter 2

"There's this pretty young thing working in that cafe you love to hate," a co-worker announced.

"So..." Fushimi droned checking reports. 

"She looks so innocent and happy, like the world's full of flowers and nothing can go wrong," the man grinned widely, "exactly your type."

"Piss off," Fushimi smiled. 

~~~

The cafe was bright and pink, the waitresses and waiters smiled politely, as though they actually enjoyed being there. The chairs were too comfortable and the tea was too good.

He eyed the new ginger employee, huge smile, bundles of energy and an almost constant blush. His co-worker had been wrong about one thing though, this was definitely not a girl. 

"Excuse me miss!" Fushimi made it obvious he was trying to get the boy's attention. The boy jolted and as he turned toward the other, Fushimi noticed with amusement that the blush had darkened and his eye was twitching with the effort of keeping himself in control. 

"Can I take your order sir?" The boy smiled an obviously practiced smile. 

"Yes you can," he smiled in return, the boy held a pen and pad ready but what really got Fushimi was the seconds flash of murderous rage flaring in the boy's eyes. "I'll have a chocolate bubble tea thanks," this was going to be fun. 

Fushimi quickly worked out the redhead's work schedule and dropped by to tease him as much as possible. 

He watched the boy, happy and young and innocent and so full of hope and energy. Fushimi paled in comparison, so as he did with everything that was better than him, he wanted to posses it and he wanted to destroy it. He wondered how soft that skin was, thought about it a lot, even dreamed of it. He wondered if that skin felt warm or cool to the touch, Fushimi imagined it'd be warm just like the boy's demeanour. 

The boy was often left to lock up and would walk home alone, this irked Fushimi. He knew there were worse men than him out there waiting for pretty little boys like the one he watched. He'd have to teach the other a lesson. 

~~~

It was dark and the pavement was still wet from the rain, the cool night air smelt so good to Yata Misaki, he breathed in a deep lung full. The day had been long and full of perverted men that thought he was a girl and perverted men that knew he was a boy.

He liked his job, he really did, mostly it was pretty girls that came in for the atmosphere, but during lunch the salary men would come in and letch at him and his co-workers. He didn't really mind that, staring creeps he could deal with, ignore completely even. It was the ones that were attractive you had to look out for, Yata had come to know, they were like sharks just waiting for their moment. 

Sultry words and a flash of your keys got you nowhere with Yata though. Some of them had waited for his shift to end or waited until he closed shop so he'd be alone, then they'd get close and ask questions. Yata had long ago made a mental circle of personal space and if any creep stepped into the circle they'd get their ass handed to them. He might be a small boy but there was a fierce fire inside him and no one expects a kick in balls, they all went down. 

Stalkers were the ones that he really didn't like, he hated people knowing where he lived. He would use his size and knowledge of the roads around his home to his advantage and lose them easily. Hand on his pulsing heart, he'd close his door and sigh with relief. 

Men were fucking terrifying. 

Yata had grown up with his older sisters and his mother, thus he was not brainwashed into thinking that women owed him anything or that harassing them was an ok thing to do. This mindset also made it difficult for him to talk to girls though. He was too respectful and mindful of annoying them. He'd heard his sisters going on about the irritating guys that wouldn't give it a rest and he'd get angry at their blasé attitude.

"This is just how things are Misaki," his mother would say.

Yeah well fuck that, Yata thought as he eyed the tall dark man in one of the street mirrors. He'd often been mistaken for a girl, even when he cut his hair short. This one was keeping up, Yata could hear the footsteps behind him. He quickly stepped down a side street, there was a store at the end of the road that stayed open late. 

The footsteps grew louder and Yata realised that the man was running. He quickened his pace and bolted it out the narrow street, running straight into what had felt like a brick wall and fell to the floor. 

~~~

Fushimi looked down at the figure that had knocked him back. Amber eyes shone at him through long locks of fiery hair. He eyed the side street that the boy was looking at, there was a man approaching them.

"Oh just because you're late doesn't mean you have to run," Fushimi pulled the boy up by his arms, "I wasn't waiting long," he pulled the boy close. "What's your name?" He whispered into the other's ear. 

"U-uh Misaki," Yata spluttered out head spinning and pulse racing. 

"Are you alright Misaki?" Fushimi held Yata's face and smiled warmly, Yata nodded. "Then let's go," he put his arm around the redhead and started toward the store. 

~~~

Yata remembered this man, tall, thin with glasses. That man that he called blue, the one that spoke as if he knew him, the one that constantly irritated Yata for his own amusement. 

"U-um, thanks, I guess," he mumbled when they were inside the store, Fushimi eyed him.

"You shouldn't walk home on your own," Fushimi stated. 

"Despite what you think, I'm actually not a girl," Yata said simply walking down one of the aisles.

"I know ," Fushimi said in a bored tone, Yata spun on his heels and glared. 

"You're annoying," Yata said as he looked Fushimi over, the dark haired boy just shrugged.

"That was the point. Call someone, a friend, have them walk you home," Fushimi turned to leave. 

"W-wait," Yata reached out toward the other, "I-I'm Yata Misaki," he bowed, Fushimi tried as hard as he could not to laugh but it bubbled through his lips.

"I'm Fushimi Saruhiko," he curtsied flamboyantly, "I'll see you around, Misaki," he waved behind him as he left.

"Don't use my given name," Yata shouted at the other's back.


	3. Chapter 3

"Misaki~" Fushimi called from his table. Yata didn't have anyone to blame but himself for that, he still cursed the other under his breath though. 

"May I take your order Sir?" Yata said cheerily, smiled tight and forced. 

"Are you just waiting for Mr. Right to walk through those doors and propose so you can be whisked away to your dream of becoming a house wife?" Fushimi's sly smile grated against Yata.

"What do you want?" Yata groaned, it was too late in the day for this crap.

"You," Fushimi chimed, chin resting on folded hands.

"I'm not on the menu jerk," Yata mumbled, face tinted red. 

"That's a pity, maybe some other time then," Fushimi said from under his lashes, hiding the amused curve of his lips, "for now I think I'll just have to settle for a black coffee."

~~~

"Tsk, walking home alone again Misaki?" Fushimi tutted kicking himself off the wall. "Haven't you learnt anything?" He raised his brow in a way that seemed to suggest Yata was an idiot. 

"I'll be fine," Yata grit out putting the bags in the trash can, "nice of you to worry though," he said sarcastically. 

"Are you a total idiot?" Fushimi seethed. "Obviously I shouldn't have intervened the other day, you might have learnt your lesson then," he skulked toward Yata, hands in his pockets. 

"W-what?!" Yata took a few steps back, bumping into the trash cans. Fushimi drew closer still. 

"Are you really that eager to be abused, Misaki?" Fushimi towered over Yata, cowing the boy against the adjacent wall. "People like you irritate me," he said voice low. 

"Well, people like you irritate me," Yata barked up at the other, "I shouldn't have to be afraid," he fumed. 

"It's not about fear, it's about caution," Fushimi sighed. "You're weary of bears, right? You wouldn't go and poke one with a stick," his tone turned light. 

"W-well of course not," Yata screwed his face up, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. 

"Then why are dangling such fine meat in the eyes of such vile beasts?" Fushimi looked at Yata as though the smaller were some sort of tiny annoying gnat.

"Heh," Yata pressed flush against the wall, the cold of the concrete seeping into his skin. "Alright, I get it," he brought his hands up in front of him in surrender. 

"You've locked up right?" Fushimi droned, Yata nodded dumbly. "Good, then I'll walk you home," he gripped Yata's arms and pulled the other in the vague direction of the store from the other night. 

"H-hey, oi Fushimi-san," Yata barked trying to get loose, "I'm not leading you to my home," he seethed.

"Well then, I, the man that hasn't stalked or followed you anywhere, will leave you in the good hands of that man from the other night that I passed further down the street," Fushimi let go of Yata and continued to walk down the road. 

Yata stood there, stunned. He hadn't even thought about it, but now he could even see the guy maybe fifty yards ahead. He didn't want to admit it but he needed Fushimi's help, despite how much the other irritated him. 

"Oi, wait up," Yata called to Fushimi, he ran up to the taller and linked their arms just to be safe. Yata didn't look up, just kept his eyes on the ground to hide his wounded pride. 

Fushimi smiled down at the redhead, what a sucker. He could have easily avoided that guy by going down a side street or even taking him on in a fight, he'd felt the lean muscle under his hand moments ago. Yata was just so much fun, Fushimi couldn't get enough. 

"You're gonna have to lead me, this is the first time for me to visit Misaki's home," he chimed. 

"You're such a fucking asshole," Yata muttered. 

It wasn't long before they arrived at his group of apartments. The walk was quiet and actually kind of nice, a comfortable silence had fallen upon them. Fushimi had never had that with anyone before, Yata felt much the same and was hoping the dark would hide his light blush. 

"Right, thanks again," Yata bowed, "bye-bye," he waved and stood stock still. 

"Err, aren't you supposed to go home?" Fushimi crocked a bow. 

"I'm not letting you see which apartment is mine," Yata yelled incredulously. 

"Well then I'll just have to knock on all of the doors until I find yours," Fushimi beamed, "Bye-bye," he mocked waving over his shoulder as he left. Yata stood there mouth agape, this guy was unbelievable. He grit his teeth and slammed his door, groaning into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Fushimi did not look well, sweating onto the tabletop and into his coffee cup. Yata looked at that flushed skin and worried, but he wouldn't utter a word of concern. He just stood there shifting pensively behind the counter, eyeing the dark corner that Fushimi sat in every other second. 

Yata was still thinking about the irritating tall snap of a man whilst locking up, spinning the keys around the ring on his finger. He all but tripped over the crumpled body of Fushimi slumped against the cold wall.

"The fuck are you doing?" Yata yelled heart pounding against his ribs, Fushimi simply scowled up at him.

"It cool out here," he croaked.

"You're not well," Yata stated the obvious, "let me help you get home," he said rubbing the back of his head and laughing lightly. 

"Misaki is far too kind," Fushimi said weakly sliding up the wall. 

"It's the least I could do," Yata said, "and stop calling me that," he barked in indignation a second later. 

"Let a dying man have his little pleasures," Fushimi leaned heavily on Yata, the latter groaned. 

Fushimi weakly led Yata to his apartment complex, putting most of his weight on the other. Huffing and panting, sweating over flushed skin. Fushimi lived in the penthouse of a luxurious apartment complex, Yata stared at the towering building that seemed to pierce the Heavens. He'd never been anywhere near somewhere as fancy as this place.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around Misaki," Fushimi pushed off of Yata and made towards the entrance.

"Wait," Yata called, grabbing Fushimi by the cuff of his blazer. "I don't know how I feel about leaving you to faint in an elevator, I'm really not the sort of person that can do that no matter how annoying you are," he barked, features marred with concern. 

"Really it's fine," Fushimi waved swaying in Yata's grasp, "it's only 54 floors, I just wanna get in bed really," he said lightly. 

"Fine, let's make sure you get to bed safely," Yata said firmly, the crease in his brow said that there was not room for argument. 

"Alright," Fushimi rolled his eyes and smiled sharply, "my knight in shining armour," that vicious smirk wasn't dampened by his illness. 

The lobby sparkled so bright Yata thought he'd go blind if he stood there for much longer, having a man five years older than him draped over him was little bit more than just awkward for him. The elevator ride was strange, it was quiet and calm. Fushimi was leaning heavily on him but he didn't mind, the weight was kind of comforting. 

The hot breath puffing into his hair, the warmth that seeped from the other and through his clothes. This man had saved him twice, Yata thought, Fushimi may be irritating but it was kind of endearing. To be honest it wasn't really irritating, it was fun, the back and forth. Fushimi would make some sort of semi-humorous comment, Yata would pretend he didn't hear it or bark belligerently or blush fiercely and that was pretty much the extent of their interaction, besides the impromptu rescuing. 

Yata looked up at Fushimi then, eyes somewhat warm. The daft bastard was asleep, Yata chuckled quietly to himself. They were friends weren't they, he'd seen shows with friendships like theirs. Yeah it was unorthodox, a typical but that was fine, this was fine. 

The elevator dinged and Yata noticed that this was the top floor. The doors slid aside to reveal the inside of an apartment, the short hall way led into the living area and Yata could see the vast expanse of the Tokyo night spread out before him through the floor to ceiling window that was the outside wall. His mouth hung open in awe, he'd never seen anything like this.

He lightly shook Fushimi awake and hefted him into the penthouse, the elevator door slid silently behind them. 

Yata felt the hard cold wall behind him and heard the loud thud before he realised what had happened. Fushimi was holding both of Yata's hands above his head, grip strong. All signs of illness disappeared, like the dropping of a mask. 

"Got ya," Fushimi sing-songed into Yata's ear, laughing lightly.


	5. Chapter 5

"What?" Yata breathed, he half expected this. He had seen the way Fushimi had looked at him during that first week, but the feeling of unease had dwindled over the last few weeks. Fushimi had saved him twice and was annoying in that way that he's only annoying because Yata didn't want to like him. Yata mentally kicked himself.

"Let's have some fun, Misaki," Fushimi lilted, kissing just under Yata's ear. He purred at the sickly sweet smell that filled his nostrils. 

"Jeez, you're such a bastard!" Yata squirmed in Fushimi's grasp, how could the lanky git be so strong?

"Now, now," Fushimi hummed against Yata's pulse, lips sliding over the smaller's neck. Yata shivered despite himself, Fushimi pressed his teeth to the other's collarbone.

"Stop it, pervert!" Yata seethed, the rage in his eyes waivered and that was all Fushimi needed. The taller stepped back and let go of Yata, the smaller stood there panting and staring at Fushimi. "What was that for?" Yata pressed his back firm against the wall.

"Because I wanted to," Fushimi said flippantly as he walked further into the apartment. Yata watched the taller turn the corner, then looked at the elevator pensively. He sighed loudly and followed Fushimi straight into the kitchen. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Yata barked at Fushimi who was chopping food on the counter top, he wasn't surprised that at the opulence of the room. 

"I wanted you in my apartment and I wanted to seduce you," Fushimi said simply and dropped the chopped vegetables in a pot on the hob. Yata's eye twitched, he could hardly believe the guy's audacity. 

"Right," Yata said slowly.

"You hungry?" Fushimi chimed as he stirred the pot, smiling cheerily. Yata's eye twitched again, he was about to say something crass but his stomach growled. 

"Um, yeah, I haven't eaten since lunch," Yata held his hand over his stomach and smiled sheepishly. 

"Well then, allow me," Fushimi picked up a blow, in which he'd been thawing meat and dumped it into the pot. A strong aroma drifted in the air and up Yata's nostrils, his mouth began to water. "Why don't you take a seat at the island," Fushimi motioned with his shoulder, concentrating fully on the pot in front of him. 

Yata jumped on one of the high stools and watched Fushimi's back. The spark of suspicion seeped into him, why wasn't he leaving? Why was he still sitting there after Fushimi had admitted to wanting to get into his pants. He thought about getting up but the aroma held him in place.

Before Yata knew it, a blow was being set down in front of him as Fushimi sat beside him. He stared into the blow, a few vegetables, succulent cuts of beef and udon noodles. He'd devoured the entire blow in no time, brought the edge of the blow to his mouth and downed the soup greedily. Fushimi side eyed him with a viscous sneer. 

"What?" Yata said as drips of soup trailed along his chin, eyes sparkling with contented fullness. Fushimi leaned over and licked the other's chin before Yata could even blink. "Ugh, pervert," he said begrudgingly and held his hand over his chin. 

"Do I get my meal now?" Fushimi said sweetly, a smile cracked across his face that made Yata shiver.

"W-what the fuck are you talking about?" Yata's face burned, almost falling off the stool try to gain some space.

"Are you really that naive, Misaki?" Fushimi cooked an eyebrow with a wicked smile. 

"I know what you mean, I-I just," Yata stammered infinitely more embarrassed.

"Well then, let's get to it," Fushimi stood over Yata and delved his fingers into those luscious long locks. Yata could stare up at him, caught in that endless gaze that drew out before him. Their lips met before either of them realised it, they gasped and drew into each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I love writing these two. I've having a shitty week for reasons and will be having shitty month so my updates won't be reliable, but I'll try my best to drag myself from the horrid place I have to go to every weekday and write more Sarumi for you guys, it makes me feel better too. So.....sorry for the short cock tease of a chapter, the next one will be up on Sunday so ya don't have to wait long.


	6. Chapter 6

Yata was sandwiched between the couch and Fushimi, the older man swallowed him up. Lips all over Yata's body, tongue and teeth abused him and hands made sinful travels over his skin. The couch was spacious, Yata was laid down completely upon it, pressed deep into its cushions as though Fushimi wished to crush him with the force of desire. 

Yata looked up into eyes he thought to be cold and distant, but found them shining and hooded. His face was so hot he could hardly stand it, he only managed to grip at the other, trying not to float away with the dizzying sensations. Yata couldn't think, his mind was full of the new experience and his body wanted more, he couldn't help but arch up into the body above him. 

Fushimi sat back, smile wild and wicked, and stared down at the mess he'd made. Yata's hair stuck out all over the place, his face was a deep shade of red, his eyes were fiery and swam with want, his mouth was wet and bruised, his chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted and his hands twitched with the need to touch. It really was a sight to behold.

"How would you rate my seduction skills then, Misaki?" Fushimi said huskily, he hid how affected he was with a teasing smirk. The boy beneath him just panted in reply, Yata only managed to scowl up at him. "Do you disagree?" Fushimi chirped and titled his head to the side.

"You," Yata sat up on his elbows and desperately tried to catch his breath, "are such an asshole," he seethed.

"That's not an answer Misaki," Fushimi said condescendingly smiling down at the other. 

"Ugh, shut up," Yata barked and covered his face with his arms, he flopped back down on the couch. 

"Still not an answer," Fushimi sing-songed, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Work it out for yourself, evil monkey," Yata whined and kicked his legs out toward the bastard. 

"Ah," Fushimi hummed as if in realisation, "then I'll continue," he began to crawl over the smaller body.

"What?!" Yata shrieked and came up on his elbows again, he was immediately confronted with the monkey's cheeky face centimetres from his own. His throat ached and his mouth watered and his head spun, he couldn't understand any of the feelings rushing through him. A weird urge suddenly struck him, he couldn't help but comply to the impulse and slowly licked those lips before him. 

Fushimi was mildly startled, but didn't show it, and pressed his tongue against Yata's. It was obscene and slightly gross, drool was spilling between them. They lapped at and tasted each other, Yata quietly mewled against the pressure. He brought shaky hands to Fushimi's face and pulled the taller over him as they laid down again. 

Yata was completely following impulse, far too embarrassed to do much else. His fingers slipped into slick, smooth hair and he wrapped his legs around the other's waist. Yata thought that he should be thinking about whether this was right or not, but what he was currently feeling was far too intoxicating for him to care. 

Fushimi wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and mused over his next move, he didn't want to miscalculate and startle the smaller. He cupped Yata's face and caressed the glowing red cheek softly with his thumb, he turned their tongue sucking into an opened mouth kiss. 

Fushimi's hand trailed from Yata's face, down his soft neck, the pads of fingers caught on his collarbone, pressed over his clothed torso and went under his t-shirt. Slender experienced fingers found his nipple and Yata released a startled shriek, the taller giggled against his face. Yata didn't know anything about these kinds of things, every sensitive place was a surprise to him. 

Yata's t-shirt was pulled up to his chin, Fushimi's mouth left his face and began to kiss the smaller's chest. Fushimi listened for the optimal reaction as he lick, sucked, bit and kissed; he heard gasps, whines, moans, keens and pants. He brought his lisp to the other's nipple and began to press against it with his tongue, the boy below him whined and shifted. It was a good reaction but it wasn't enough, he bit it and sucked and Yata mewled and shook. 

Fushimi used the distraction to run his fingers down to Yata's shorts and felt the other's hardness through the fabric. Yata was drowning in sensation, two points of contact was clearly too much for him. He grew louder as a slender hand tangled in his wild hair, he gripped Fushimi's arms and pulled at his shirt. 

Fingers easily slipped into Yata's waistband and wrapped around his hardness, he'd never been this hard. He could only take in breath as the other pumped him from inside his shorts, the sharp sound rattled inside his throat. Lips came to his exposed ear and nibbled it lightly, tongue delving into the shell.

"Breathe," Fushimi sighed huskily, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. 

Yata released the metric ton of air he'd been holding in, it rushed out of him like a hot summer's breeze. It was too much, Fushimi was everywhere and he couldn't escape. Teeth found his neck and grazed against his pulse, Fushimi pulled his hand out of Yata's shorts. Fingers gripped waistband of Yata's shorts and underwear and tugged them down, so slowly it was almost painful. 

Yata's cock bounced in Fushimi's face as he released it from its confines, he smiled at the small pink appendage that glistened in front of him. He was sure that Yata wouldn't last long and the precum that slid down the length solidified the thought. 

Fushimi began to kiss, lick and press his teeth against the shaft, Yata babbled above him. He took the whole thing in his mouth easily and sucked hard, Yata shrieked again. The high shrill noise cut through Fushimi's ears and it sounded like the sweetest music to him, this was really fun. 

Yata came quickly and the force of it made him lurch and groan, it was the most intense feeling he had ever felt. He lay back and trembled, his skin sang and everywhere it touched something else sent shocks through him. He whined weakly, he couldn't handle this at all.

Fushimi sat back and stared deep into Yata's eyes, making sure he had the other's full attention. He liked his lips obscenely and Yata shuddered, the taller was devious, sexy, evil, debouched, sly and irresistible. 

Yata's eyes roved over Fushimi's body: his hair was mussed, his eyes were dark with desire, a light blush dusted his cheeks, his lips were wet, his shirt was wrinkled and pulled loose to one side and there was a predominant tent in his pants. Yata flushed at the sight before him and wondered if he'd been selfish since he'd gotten all the pleasure. He sat up and reached toward Fushimi's waist tentatively, but a hand batted his away. Yata looked up at the other like a scolded child. 

"That's enough," Fushimi said darkly and Yata was still swimming in the aftermath of the intense sensation and was far too confused to infer any semblance of understanding. "Don't you want to take the time to think about what you're doing," Fushimi said simply, pulling Yata's shorts up before getting up from the couch. 

Yata was dumbstruck, thinking was way beyond his faculties at that moment in time. He watched as Fushimi moved to another room and sat there mind wiring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really busy recently and will continue to be, but I'll try to update at least once a week from now on. Thanks for all the lovely comments and support guys :3


	7. Chapter 7

Yata could hear the ticking of the clock in the sudden silence, he turned to face it and saw that it was already past midnight. He did not want walk home from way out here, it would take over an hour and he didn't have the money for a taxi. 

On the other hand he was far too embarrassed to chase after Fushimi just yet. That tall bastard had done to him what all those other men had only fantasised about and Yata had let him. The guy had outright told Yata that he couldn't be trusted, that he'd pulled the wool over the other's eyes and announced his intentions of corrupting Yata. And still he had followed Fushimi into the apartment, ate dinner with him and let him do as he please with his body. 

Yata couldn't deny that it was enjoyable and that given the chance he'd do the same again, but now something about Fushimi made him rather uneasy. He turned around on the couch to face the window and stared at the star filled sky that glinted back at him. Even with this uneasiness, Yata still felt a certain pull toward that strange tall man. 

The Fushimi Saruhiko as reflected in Yata's mind was: funny, odd, slightly unhinged, interesting, almost in complete opposition to himself and despite the distasteful personality was the vague shape of a hero in those fiery amber eyes. 

Yata smacked his forehead on the back of the couch, this twat was going to be the death of him. How could he be attracted to someone like that, how could he not? Yata was beginning to irritate himself and decided that he'd force his presence upon Fushimi as revenge. 

~~~

Fushimi closed his bedroom door slowly and listened to the quiet click as though his heart wasn't beating like a woodpecker against his ribs. The intensity of those heated eyes and that warm heartfelt expression, nobody had ever looked like that when reaching out for him, no one had ever reached out for him. 

He sat on the side of the bed he preferred, removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was completely uncalled for, people were supposed to hate him but this idiot had reached out to him. He couldn't stand it, the flutter of his stomach was in disgust, the heat in his cheeks was from seeing such an embarrassing act and the harsh beating of his heart was from the fear that idiots like this guy really existed. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue and began to remove his shirt when he noticed that there was more light now than a moment before. He looked toward the door, light cascaded around a dark form. The idiot had stayed and had followed him, he would have laughed if it wasn't so damning. 

"What is it?" he sighed as he slid his glasses back into place. 

"Oh get over yourself," Yata groaned in the doorway, heart slightly uncertain. "I'm staying here tonight and I'm sleeping in your bed," he barked putting as much conviction in his voice as possible. 

Fushimi stared dumbly at the boy, he plastered that snide smile on his face to hide his surprise. The boy before him flowed like water, probably more like oil and became flames faster and stronger than anyone could anticipate. 

"Do as you please, your majesty," Fushimi gave small bow of the head and a flourish of his arms before he continued to unbutton his shirt. Yata giggled and a button slipped from between Fushimi's fingers. He looked up at the younger who had approached his side of the bed, Yata was smiling, eyes creased and held a hand daintily over his mouth. 

Before either of them knew what was happening, Fushimi had Yata on his back upon the bed, mouth wide and wet with swallowed gasps. Fushimi held himself above the other when he came to his senses, he was mildly horrified. Cool, calm and collected Fushimi Saruhiko who always had everything in control had lost control of himself, this was not on. 

"I came to bed to sleep asshole," said Yata with laughter in his voice, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Fushimi couldn't have found it cuter, "have some restraint, that offer on the couch was a couch only offer. You're gonna have to deal with this yourself." Yata gripped Fushimi through the fabric of his pants, spurred on by the obvious affect he had on the other. 

Fushimi rolled onto his back and sighed at himself, this was too troublesome. He'd be courteous and let the boy stay the night, make him breakfast in the morning, drive him home and never see him again. Even then Fushimi knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from this enigma, easily read, easily set off but hard to predict. He couldn't stand not understanding something, so he'd get to the bottom of the Misaki puzzle box and that would be the end of it, everything would go back to normal.

Yata sat up and looked down to study Fushimi's serious face, he poked the other hard. 

"What's with the grave face?" This was fun, Fushimi was so much fun. 

"Nothing," Fushimi groaned as he sat up and removed his shirt and pants, he slid under the covers with ease. "After breakfast I'll drive you home tomorrow, it's on my way to work," he added as he place his glasses on the bedside table. 

"Alright," Yata was embarrassed by the consistent kindness of the other along with the sight of his partially naked form. Fushimi was lean, pale and smooth and even though Yata had expected as much it was still a sight to behold. "T-thanks," he mumbled as he crawl over to the empty side, removed his jeans and pawed the covers back. 

Fushimi could see perfectly at this distance, Yata's open fly, low riding underwear and the way he crawled over the bed made it extremely hard for him to control himself. He turned away and closed his eyes before Yata could remove any layer of clothing which would definitely cause him to lose his resolve. 

Five minutes had barely passed when Fushimi began to hear the soft and steady breathing of a boy sleeping. He turned over to find that angelic face inches from his own, that skin glowed in the dim light, that expression was calm and warm and that hair framed that face so perfectly. 

He couldn't help but lean over, caught in the dark magic that was that sweet boy's face. Yata called to him like Siren's called to sailors, he was completely helpless. Fushimi pressed his lips lightly against barely parted soft pink lips, then he felt something he had not felt for a very long time, nervousness born of a fear of rejection swelled within him like a viscous poison. 

At that exact moment Fushimi knew that Yata Misaki would be the death of him, but he was wrong about everything else.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are freaking nerds.

"I'm not some sort of cheap whore!" Yata yelled with indignation, spitting rice everywhere as Fushimi slid some bills across the countertop. Fushimi sighed and clicked his tongue.

"So troublesome," he said under his breath adjusting his tie.

"What was that?" Yata leaned toward Fushimi, lifting himself off the stool at the breakfast table.

"Look, I have to go to work, I'm pretty late so I'm giving you money for a taxi," Fushimi mumbled brows furrowing. 

"Oh," Yata blushed at the gesture. Fushimi couldn't help but stare at the faint redness of Yata's cheeks, faint pout, big warm eyes and the small bits of rice stuck to the small boy's face. 

He hardly noticed that he was leaning down, the only thing that crossed his mind was that Yata's face was getting closer. Then he was kissing the other, soft, warm lips that tasted like breakfast pressed gently against Fushimi's own. And then he said something stupid.

"Here's my keys," he slapped them on the countertop, "lock up and I'll pick you up for dinner from your apartment at about seven, you're free right, Misaki," Fushimi breath ghosted over Yata's sensitive lips, the dark haired man already knew Yata would be free and the thought made a secret smirk cross his lips.

"h-h-hmmm," Yata screwed his eyes shut and nodded firmly, he'd turned beet red. 

"Ok, bye," Fushimi was getting embarrassed at his constant adoration of every little thing the redhead did, so he kissed that auburn hair and left as quickly as possible. 

Fushimi sat in his Porsche breathing hard with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel. That boy was a freaking handful, more trouble than he was worth. Fushimi never let people actually sleep in his bed, he'd never even brought any of the others to his home come to think of it. Fushimi sat bolt upright with the realisation, eyes going wide. What the fuck was he doing, Fushimi Saruhiko did not let anyone in his home, what the fuck was he doing? 

He groaned heavily at himself and went to put his key in the ignition, he froze. 

_So,_ he thought, _I've become some sort of retard that lets floosies into his house, doesn't sleep with them and lets them sleep in my bed. The kind of idiot that takes the clickly button crap that unlocks the car but forgets to take the fucking ignition key._ Fushimi could have screamed but he chose to clicked his tongue instead. 

Fushimi slammed the car door shut as hard as he could, but winced at the sound that shook through the frame. He stomped to the elevator and into his home.

~~~

Yata sat there blinking dumbly, Fushimi really was wonderful, he mused with a fond smile. He brushed the rice from around his mouth with the back of his hand and gently touched the spot where the taller had kissed him goodbye, fingers slipping through soft locks. 

_What a weird guy,_ Yata thought, laughing lightly. 

He may have been inexperienced and a fair bit innocent, but he knew when someone was embarrassed since he had a lot of experience with that. Watching Fushimi be embarrassed at how Yata affected him was making the shorter sort of giddy.

He eyed the notes and the small ring of keys on the edge of the counter, even from across the breakfast bar, Yata could see that there was way more than enough for a taxi, _way_ more. Enough to pay his rent for the month, enough for the rent and extra. The fact that Fushimi just had that much sitting in his wallet, he wondered if the taller had just dumped the entire contents of his wallet. 

Yata would admit that it was tempting to take all of the money, but he was going to reward Fushimi's hospitality and take just enough for the taxi. If Fushimi had been an asshole, Yata would have totally taken all of that money and whatever he wanted from the kitchen cupboards because damn he was poor and hungry and not above claim things as asshole tax. 

He washed and dried his plate and chop sticks, even put them away. It felt really weird going through someone else's draws and cupboard, he felt like a pervert. Yata padded back over to the breakfast bar, the day old socks that he'd worn on his nine hour shift felt gross. Wearing day old clothes felt gross, he couldn't wait to get home and have a shower. 

Yata picked up the small ring of keys and span them around his finger, one in particular caught his eye. It had that German horse insignia, he wasn't surprised at the opulence it was the idiocy that caught him off guard. Laughter erupted from him, racking his chest so hard that he began to cry. 

~~~

The thunderous stomping of feet made the whole apartment rattle. Fushimi turned the corner to find the current bane of his existence on his hands and knees, laughing in that way that made it look and sound like you were freaking dying. Fushimi's visage darkened, he had never been so angry at himself. 

"What are you doing?" He asked voice thick with contempt.

"Y-you...you left," Yata struggled out between laughter, he took a moment to breathe and wipe the tears from his eyes. "You left the bloody key to your car, you fucking idiot," he barely managed to get the sentence out before the laughter burst through his lips again. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue, it was a habit and one that Yata was bringing out of him. He bent down and snatched the keys from the floor, he debated whether to just take his keys and leave Yata to stew in the apartment like a prisoner or to go along with their previous plan.

"Everyone fucks up, dumbass. Why's it such a big deal?" Yata raised a brow, laughing directly at Fushimi this time.

"My dad always said that only idiots fuck up," Fushimi had meant to lash out at the other, but only cut himself like the deep lacerations he had imagined once long ago. 

"That's...shitty," Yata ventured with trepidation. 

"Yeah it is," Fushimi settled on the floor next to Yata, pressed his back against the breakfast bar. 

"W-what about work?" Yata said gently.

"Fuck work," Fushimi sighed viscously, "thinking about my dad makes everything sour," he groaned. 

"He sounds like a dick from the one thing I know about him," said Yata, the words tumbling from him as he worried his lips softly. 

"He was the kind of guy that if he looked at fruit the wrong way it would start to decompose," Fushimi sneered pulling at the fabric over his knee. "I bet your parents are all sunshine, rainbows and lollipops," he turned to Yata's soft face marred with faintly with concern. 

"Well my mum's like that, she constantly smells like baking and flowers, she's always happy to see you and it's like her face only knows how to smile," Yata blushed lightly as he looked off to the side in reminiscence. 

"That sounds too good to be true," Fushimi stated eyeing Yata.

"Sometimes it feels that way, it's so weird, like I've fucked up so hard and she just smiles at me and tells me that it'll be alright," Yata laughed awkwardly, it felt like he was bragging. He felt guilty for rubbing Fushimi's face in it. 

"Hmm," Fushimi hummed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the counter, "what about your dad?" He asked tentatively. 

"Asshole is putting it lightly," Yata seethed grimacing, baring his teeth with the force of venom coursing through him.

"Feel you there bro," Fushimi fist bumped Yata's shoulder and immediately felt like drowning himself. Yata's mind went blank white before he made a noise like a wounded animal.

"You! You..." Yata pressed his lips into a firm line. "You fuck," he sighed, "we were just starting to have the first adult conversation, you ass," he huffed, blowing air at the floor. 

"Mmm, sorry," Fushimi sighed, it was half true but he'd enjoyed the shocked look on the other's face. "So, is your dad still around?" Fushimi was reaching, he had no idea how they got here.

"Nope," Yata said curtly. 

"Hmm," Fushimi hummed, this was going nowhere. The clock caught his eye and thoughts of work drifted back to him. "I better get going," Fushimi rose to his feet, finding out from the awkwardness, "we're still on for later though," he stated firmly.

"Sure, got your car keys this time?" Yata said sarcastically. 

Fushimi threw the remaining keys hard a Yata's chest before turning around to leave, like the petulant child he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about the plot, don't worry about that the plot is all around us, the plot is in the air. It's just a real slow burn.


	9. Chapter 9

To say that Yata was nervous would be a major understatement, he was outright terrified. Halfway home he had realised that their meeting that night would probably be like a date, an actual date. Fushimi would come over to his, pick him up like the gentleman he wasn't and they'd have dinner together. Yata had also noticed that Fushimi had not specified where they'd be having dinner, he was mostly sure that the older had meant the apartment but that still left room for doubt.

He stood there staring at the meagre contents of his cupboard, which was: one beige button up shirt that he hated, around ten plain t-shirts ranging in various colours, two pairs of shorts, two pairs of jeans, one blank tank top, one pair of dark grey trousers, a white cotton jumper and seven pairs of black socks. Yata groaned at the lack of choice, he'd have to make do.

In the taxi on the way home just after his minor anxiety attack, Yata had wanted to at least text Fushimi but then he'd realised another flaw in his plan when he noticed that he didn't even have the other's number. 

_At least we're equal in the retard department,_ Yata mused and smiled widely to himself at the memory of Fushimi's horrified face from that morning.

It was six pm and Yata was having his second shower of the day, it was short and sweet and mostly just to calm his nerves. He put on a crisp pair of boxers, black socks and turned to stare at the stupid pile of clothes on his bed. Yata scowled at the shitty pickings, his fingers traced over the fabric. He wanted to look good but not like it mattered to him or that he was trying. 

After about fifteen minutes of fierce internal debate, Yata settled on one of his pairs of jeans, a black t-shirt and his white jumper. When he had folded and put away his clothes, Yata stared at the closed cupboard freaking out at how much he was freaking out. 

He liked Fushimi, really liked him a lot and wanted to continue to see him but he wasn't sure about the pacing. It wasn't like they were fucking but they'd sure as hell come closer than Yata ever had, his fingers twisted pensively in a stray lock of his hair. 

There was no evidence, but Yata felt this gnawing itch at the back of his mind that told him he should reconsider this relationship. That was probably due to his complete and total lack of experience and the overflowing fluttering emotions within his chest that refused to calm. 

A firm rhythmic knocking bounced off Yata's head like a basketball, he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door. He stopped there, hand hovering over the handle and felt crippling levels of stupidity. Yata took a long deep breath, held it for ten seconds as the knocking became somewhat impatient and breathed out in a steady level manner. He opened the door with what he deemed the appropriate amount of pressure and speed, Fushimi was scowling in the doorway. 

"I know you were right in front of the door," he huffed, "you could have just opened it," he clicked his tongue and tried his hardest to pretend that even waiting half a minute for a door to open didn't make him the angriest man on Earth. The fact that Yata was practically radiating with a youthful innocent glow that made him an entirely different kind of hungry irritated him to no end. 

"Patience is a virtue Fushimi-san," Yata chimed, he couldn't get enough of that pained kinda constipated look on that model like face. 

"Get in the car," Fushimi groaned darkly as he stepped aside. 

"Which car is yours then?" Yata asked absently as he locked his door. 

"The nine eleven," Fushimi stated with a bored tone. 

"Isn't that like a tragedy that happened in America?" Yata raised a brow in total confusion. Fushimi slapped him on the back of the head, completely ignoring the faint blush brushed across his the bridge of his nose. 

"It's a freaking Porsche, idiot," Fushimi groaned, that boy was bordering on insufferable. He gripped Yata's wrist and dragged the smaller over to his car, he didn't want to leave it in this neighbourhood for much longer. 

"I knew your car was a Porsche because the key had that cool horse thing on it," Yata mused aloud, not wanting to sound like an idiot and ended up sounding like an even bigger idiot. Fushimi didn't and couldn't say a thing because of the combined levels of idiocy and cuteness. 

"Just get in the car," Fushimi sighed fighting the urge to rub the bridge of nose, he brought the keys from his jacket and pressed the unlock button. It gave out soft dull click as the mechanism unlocked and a cry of a beep. 

"I was half expecting it to neigh," Yata giggled as he climbed into the two seater. Fushimi stood there stunned, the thud of the door closing brought him back to reality. He scowled deeply, mostly at himself, before slinking inside the dark vehicle. 

"Put your seatbelt on," Fushimi ordered firmly as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Yes mother," Yata said mockingly, his seatbelt clicked into place as the car roared to life. 

Fushimi put the car in reverse, spun the car backward, turned to the left, put the car into drive and sped off into the road. Yata's knuckles turned white as he gripped the bottom of his seat, his eyes scanned over to the speedometer and went wide.

"That speed's not even legal," Yata barked trying to keep the panic from his voice. 

"Yup," Fushimi said curtly as he pulled a hand break turn, slamming Yata against the door. 

"Could you perhaps stop trying to kill me," Yata yelled this time, his voice wavered as his hand drifted to the door handle for more support. 

"Fine," Fushimi sighed, a self satisfied smirk spread over his lips as he put the car into automatic and brought it to a slightly lower than legal speed. Yata sent him a half force glare whilst holding his hand to his chest. 

"You're such an asshole," Yata muttered mostly to himself. 

The ride became awkwardly quiet and Fushimi felt the increasing pressure to apologise for being a total dick, but he really couldn't help it the urge had been too great. 

"I'm sorry," Fushimi tentatively ventured, he glanced sideways at the younger.

"Hmm," Yata debated giving Fushimi the silent treatment for the entire night, but when he brought his eyes to the pensive lip biting, he changed his mind. "I guess you're forgiven, dinner better be fucking extravagant," Yata turned to jab Fushimi hard in the shoulder.

"Well, we're here now, it's up to you to judge it's extravagance," Fushimi hummed as he pulled the car into park at the entrance of the restaurant. It was the most opulent restaurant that Yata had ever seen, even in the movies, it had a flipping queue around the block for fuck sake. 

"Er, er," Yata's heart started to pound against his ribs as though it wanted out. This was no good. "I-I don't think that," he was dangerously close to hyperventilating, "I don't belong here Fushimi-s-," Yata sighed darkly as he stared at the space where Fushimi used to be. He scrambled to exit the car without doing anything embarrassing.

Yata watched Fushimi flick his keys at the valet, Yata was more than 100% sure that he did not belong here. It was far too luxurious for him: everything shined to iris burning levels, everyone was wearing a suit (Fushimi included), the women wore dresses and jewellery worth more than his life. 

He felt everyone's eyes burning holes into his body like magnifying glasses that reflected the sun's rays. Then at his most insecure moment, Yata felt an arm circle his shoulders and pull him back to Earth. As Fushimi guided them through the sprawling expanse of the building, people called out to the older and made gestures at him. Yata considered that he was here because Fushimi wanted to show him off, he didn't know whether to feel like a whore or a fine piece of art, either way it only served to make him feel more uncomfortable. 

"What is this, a fucking Korean drama?" Yata seethed as they sat, Fushimi pushed in his chair raising a brow in mock confusion and Yata knew it. He promptly kicked the older under the table when he'd sat down.


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you talking about?" Fushimi raised a surreptitious brow as he opened the menu.

"You've never seen a Korean drama?" Yata asked foot ready for another jab, Fushimi shook his head lightly. "Well, there's always a some somewhat average girl who's poor or whatever and some fantastic douche bag falls for them because they're different and have their own special charm," Yata fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. 

"You're old enough to drink right?" Fushimi asked completely ignoring Yata.

"Y-yeah, but I don't really-" Yata was cut off by Fushimi raising his arm to call over a waiter and ordered something obviously French and most likely strong. "Are you ever going to talk straight to me?" Yata sighed. 

"I've been speaking straight with you," Fushimi stated, forcing his voice to be level. 

"What are your intentions with me?" Yata was feeling uncharacteristically brave given the situation. Fushimi gasped an intake of breath, trying to choke on thin air. He pressed his lips into a thin line mentally begging the waiter to hurry the fuck up. "Well," Yata raised a bow tapping his fingers against the table top. 

"I-I," Fushimi swallowed, what on Earth was he doing? "I don't know really," he met Yata's intense stare.

"That's not nearly good enough," Yata frowned. 

"Well, at first I only went to that coffee shop because a co-worker said there was a hot naive girl working there that I could mess up, realised you were a guy within seconds, stayed because you're hilarious to mess with and really I just want to fuck you," Fushimi let the words spill out of his mouth like oil, like tar. Those words were the truth but had turned into a lie, he knew he was growing feelings for Yata but was far too selfish to just walk away. He made himself sick. 

"That might have been true, but yesterday you had your chance to have me and ran into your bedroom like some scared teenager," Yata had begun to turn red and this time it was not from embarrassment, his fists shook, fingers curling in the tablecloth. "Just tell me the truth," his brows knit together as though in pain, "why do you think I'm such a threat?" Yata's eyes swam and he felt more weak than he had ever felt since learning Fushimi's name. The older swallowed thickly. 

"I-I have no idea what are you talking about?" Fushimi's second line of defence was weak against those fierce burning eyes, the boy was far more astute than he thought or Fushimi was being far more obvious than he realised. 

A quiet noise reached Fushimi's ears and caused a sharp pain to stab through his chest, a tiny little sob surged through Yata as he curled into himself. This could be good for Fushimi, he thought about pushing it, pushing Yata away, the younger would be better off. His lips protested as though they had fused together, he could only watch in silent horror as Yata softly shook. 

Yata's body was betraying him, his emotions were betraying him. Why did he care so much, why did this douche bag mean so much so suddenly. He hardly knew the prick and yet there was already a place carved out for said prick within his heart, Yata was supposed to be strong, independent and surely not so naive as to believe that someone like Fushimi would treat him with respect. It wasn't like he didn't know why, it was just that he didn't want to acknowledge it. 

Fushimi's emotions and intentions were clear as the cloudless sky that day, he had feelings for Yata, strong feelings that he was fervently denying. The conviction of it shook Yata to the bone. 

He couldn't take it anymore, Yata stood slowly on shaking legs. He took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds and released it slowly. Fiery amber eyes met icy blues and Yata felt like spitting at Fushimi considering the pathetic look he was receiving. 

"You know what Saru? You can go fuck yourself!" Yata practically screamed making Fushimi wince. The younger stormed off and out of the restaurant, Fushimi sat there looking wounded. 

~~~

Of course it was raining, why wouldn't it be? Yata grumbled to himself as he trudged down the slick streets, not particularly sure where he was going. He didn't even bring a jacket, Yata sighed at himself. At least he had his wallet and could catch the subway home, that was if he ever found one. 

"Where are you even going?" That voice, that voice sounding long suffering and self righteous drifted from the car slowly cruising beside Yata, he hadn't even noticed it too pumped with scorn and adrenaline. 

"Home," he said curtly. 

"It's in the opposite direction," Fushimi droned, one arm resting on the doorframe as he tilted his head outside to be heard. 

"I'll get the subway," Yata grit his teeth as continued down the empty street. 

"Also in the opposite direction," Fushimi stated and sighed as though he were dealing with a petulant child, the hypocrite. 

"Jeez, could ya try to not sound like a condescending asshole when you're trying to be nice?" Yata yelled, stopping dead and turning to the Porsche. The air caught in his lungs as that stupid face came into his vision. 

Fushimi's hair was drenched and sticking to his glorious marble face, water streamed down his glasses, pensive and thoughtful look plastered to his face, his white shirt stuck to his arm from his shoulder to his wrist, Yata could clearly see the curve of subtle muscles. The boy's heart thudded against his chest and he cursed it. 

"Get in and I'll take you home," it almost sounded like a whine, Yata had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. 

"My home," he said firmly after a moment. 

"Yes your home, jeez," Fushimi sighed, obviously frustrated.

"You better drive like a normal person this time," Yata warned as he walked up to the car, realising that he was walking up to the driver's side. "You're in the wrong lane," he yelled incredulously and Fushimi had the audacity to giggle. 

"Took you long enough to notice," he said lightly at Yata's slightly shocked face, "just get in the car and I'll turn it around and drive like the law abiding citizen I am," Fushimi tipped his head at the smaller. Yata huffed and then shivered before all but jumping into the hardtop. 

Fushimi was true to his word despite the wince he gave as Yata squelched into the passenger seat, he drove according to the laws and straight to Yata's apartment. When they pulled up he was feeling particularly gentlemanly and walked Yata to his door.

"You're gonna need to get out of those clothes as soon as you get in," he stated leaning against the wall, Yata leveled a 'no shit' stare at him. "You'll get hyperthermia or pneumonia, I'm just looking out for you," Fushimi whined defensively. 

"Aw, I didn't know you cared Fushimi-san," Yata chimed as he pinched the older's cheek whilst fishing out his keys. Fushimi sighed as he batted Yata's hand away, the smaller shoved the keys into the door firmly and practically kicked it in. 

Yata stood there in the doorway facing out toward Fushimi, who now stood in front of him. Yata's throat dried up and his heart fluttered like a buzzard as he stared deep into those pensive and unsure blues. All it took was for Yata to bite his lip and Fushimi was upon him, drowning in the emotions those fiery eyes made swell within him. 

Fushimi pushed them into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind them with a long slender leg. Mouths pressed together to so hard it hurt, their teeth clashed and saliva spilled. He felt Yata shudder against him, the fabric twisted in his fingers freezing and soaking. Fushimi gripped the hem of Yata's jumper and shirt, pulled them up and off that small supple body. Yata ripped Fushimi's shirt open and tore it from his body, Fushimi couldn't help but bite Yata's lip in retaliation. 

They blinked and were naked upon Yata's far too small bed, Fushimi hovering over the smaller. His head broke through the tsunami of waves of desire and the pulsing swell of his heart. Fushimi looked down at the younger all blossoming youth, smooth sweet skin, luscious locks plastered to that soft gently and fierce face. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't do anything, not with all the things swimming through his head, not with the overload of sensation rushing through his body. 

This was simultaneously the beginning and the end of his life.


	11. Chapter 11

"I-I-tell me everything there is to know about you," Fushimi demanded softly.

"Throwing away another chance at sleeping with me Fushimi-san?" Yata smiled warmly. 

"Did you go to college?" Fushimi felt weird, as though this room was the only place that existed, Yata's apartment had become the entire universe to him. His eyes sparkle in the low light as his glasses started to slip off of his face, Yata's hands came up and gently removed them.

"No, well, yes but no," Yata said thoughtfully, "I went but I dropped out after two years," he watched Fushimi carefully as he rolled beside him on the covers. 

"Why?" The intense eye contact seemed so necessary to Fushimi, as though those fiery eyes were the only thing he could look at. 

"Well, my mother got very ill and although I'm the youngest I still wanted to help out," Yata explained as he entwined their fingers between them. "I didn't want her or any of my sisters to have to pay for my education so I tried to get a job, but I couldn't find anything that paid well enough so I just stopped going to school. I got the job in the cafe to help my mother out and to pay for myself," his smile was gentle and wistful. "You obviously went to college didn't you?" Yata turned on his side toward Fushimi.

"Yeah, I went to To-oh, studied economics and business, my parents paid for everything," he stated much too enamoured to care much about the gravity of his words. 

"Sounds really fucking boring," Yata's smile cracked wide across his face and Fushimi couldn't help but plant a chaste kiss upon it. 

"Yeah it was, but I only did it because I knew I'd be able to make money easily that way and that meant being able to get away from my parent's just that much quicker," the bitterness only slightly touched his voice, he was determined to not let it ruin his good mood. "So what did you study then captain fantastically interesting?" Fushimi quirked a brow. 

"Poetry," Yata mumbled, the sound was barely audible, a blush crept its way across the bridge of his nose. Laughter bubbled up from Fushimi's throat and split through his lips.

"Really?!" He barked incredulously as he held his stomach.

"Yes, prick, wow you think so little of me don't you?" Yata lightly punched Fushimi's shoulder.

"It's just the crass way in which you speak," Fushimi shook his head. 

"And you think that there aren't any crass poems?" Yata raised a brow questioningly.

"I suppose there must be, but I doubt that any of them are on a college curriculum," Fushimi mused, fingers twisting absentmindedly in Yata's hair. 

"Yeah, but..." Yata furrowed his brows, "fuck you," he huffed after a moment, causing Fushimi to laugh again. 

"Write me a poem Misaki," Fushimi said against Yata's soft skin, nose rubbing over the boy's cheek. 

"Hmmm, I dunno," Yata leaned into the touch, "you'd have to do something totally amazing for me first," he smiled sheepishly. 

"I'll have to work up to that, I'm not good at doing nice things for other people," Fushimi murmured, fingers tracing Yata's neck. 

"I don't think you've ever done anything actually bad to me, you've been a little shitty but I guess that's just your personality," Yata giggled toward the end of the sentence, Fushimi thought that he'd never heard a more beautiful sound. Fushimi swallowed the growing lump in his throat. 

"So how many sisters do you have?" He fought the blush rising to his cheeks to no avail, but it didn't really seem to matter with the way that the other was looking at him. 

"I have two, they're both older than me, one's a nurse and the other's a housewife," Yata stated burying his head into the pillow. "What about you?" He inquired mostly into the pillow. 

"Just me," Fushimi smiled and for the first time in forever it didn't make him feel lonely. How on Earth could he feel only with those eyes, those perfect eyes looking at him like that. 

"What's your favourite colour?" Yata's fingers traced over Fushimi's stomach idly. 

"Orange," Fushimi said without giving it any thought at all, "auburn," Yata giggled again and Fushimi found himself smiling widely at the sound. "What about you?"

"Hmmm," Yata held his chin thoughtfully, "usually I would say red, but tonight I think it's the kind of blue that makes you think of glaciers and the arctic sea," Yata smiled from the very core of himself as he stared deeply into Fushimi's eyes. 

"How poetic," Fushimi cooed.

They went on all night and all morning, talking about everything and nothing. Kissing lazily in the morning sun that filtered through Yata's blinds. Their hands came between them, they caressed each other slowly, sighing into the other's mouth. They shared a shower and some burnt coffee, Fushimi couldn't think of a better way to spend the morning, couldn't think of any coffee that had tasted better than the one he had that morning. 

They spent the next three weeks much the same, Fushimi would visit Yata at work, keep the perverts at bay, take Yata out on dates, almost have sex with him, spend stupid amounts of time just talking and basking in the younger's presence. Fushimi had even given Yata a key to his apartment, he'd pouted lightly and said something about how troublesome it was without it. He'd wake up and frown at the empty space next to him, that gnawed at him the most, he couldn't stand spending time away from Yata. He craved all of the younger's attention, wanted to completely monopolise him. Yata would say it was because he didn't have anyone else, told him to get some friends or something, not that Yata had loads of friends he just had more than one and that was troublesome for Fushimi since he'd didn't have anyone other than Yata. 

They wound within each other, a perfect blend of red and blue turning purple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I'm pretty busy atm not gonna be able get more than one chapter up a week. Thanks for all the support and kudos, means alot.


	12. Chapter 12

Purple like a bruise.

Yata slammed Fushimi's lithe frame into the hallway wall, their mouths never separating. The younger had simply had enough, it had almost been a month and he's young and there's only so much that a boy in his prime can take. He rubbed his groin against Fushimi's inner thigh. Almost a month of constantly being so tantalizingly close to release and having it snatched away at the last second. Yata was wound so tightly he was ready to go at any moment, he was pretty sure that at this point he would easily blow his load in his pants from just rubbing up against Fushimi's thigh and to be honest he wouldn't have minded. 

Fushimi growled lowly and bit at Yata's bottom lip, it had been so long for him too. It wasn't that he didn't want it, because boy did he want, Yata was all he thought about and it was starting to affect his work, not that Fushimi really cared about that. Whenever he had Yata's beautiful small naked frame beneath him, he would feel this pull on his chest like an anchor dragging his heart into uncharted depths. He felt that kind of heat, that kind of sweltering heat that you feel just before a thunderous storm. An ominous feeling would sink low in his stomach and weigh heavy there, either that or he had serious commitment issues. 

Yata opened his mouth willingly and leaned into the touch of Fushimi's tongue, even moaned at the feel of it. His fingers twisted in the front of Fushimi's shirt as he continued to grind against the other, the height difference was starting to irritate him but he was far too hungry not to chase the friction. Yata had begun to liken Fushimi to sake, at first a bitter taste not quite to his liking, but then he went back for more and as his tolerance for the drink strengthened he began to find that he liked the taste and now he was addicted, there was just never enough sake to go around. 

"Saru," Yata whined keenly unable to stop the motion of his hips. 

Fushimi knew very well that Yata was inexperienced as in next to no experience, but that didn't matter with the way the shorter affected him. Those eyes that lit up with excitement, carnal desire and a hunger like a starved bear. That fiery hair that flicked around and pointed out at odd angles, it framed that petite face with delicate features exquisitely. The pained and desperate expression, the tension pulled taught throughout his body ready to snap at any second. How much Yata desired him and how much he desired Yata washed away the awkwardness that came with inexperience, it set a fire within them and sent sparks flying through their nerves. 

It had been a long day of almost fucking up for Fushimi because he just couldn't get the redhead out of his mind, he'd drove home weary of the world and aching for the warmth of home. As soon as he stepped into the penthouse, Yata was upon him, mouth, hands and body; warmth enveloped him, he dropped his briefcase and it clattered to the floor. 

Yata's jumper was the first thing to come off, then his tank top, Fushimi's jacket, Fushimi's tie, Yata's jeans and boxers, Fushimi's shirt. Fushimi turned the tables and firmly pressed the smaller against the dull grey wall, he dipped his hips low and ground into Yata. Fushimi released a long drawn out groan, Yata moaned highly through gritted teeth. 

"S-saru, I..." speech escaped Yata as Fushimi ground hard against him again, he only managed to groan at the back of his throat at the loss of contact. "I-I can't take it anymore," his brows knitted together with the effort as he gripped Fushimi's bicep. 

Fushimi traced his lips over Yata's face: forehead, cheeks, nose, temple, eyelids, chin, jaw, brow and finally to the ear. He'd never been so excited about being with someone, he'd never referred to it as _being with someone_ before, he'd never been so nervous before, nothing had ever mattered to him as much as making everything right for Yata did then. The pressure was almost crippling. His breath huffed along Yata's ear and down the column of his neck, Fushimi revelled in the shiver the younger produced. 

"Neither can I," Fushimi made a great effort to make his voice sound smooth and unaffected, just to affect Yata all the more. A sly smile twisted over his face as he tipped Yata's chin with his fingertips and began to trail kisses down the other's neck. 

Yata keened like a dog waiting to go walkies as he flailed his hands up and down Fushimi's flat chest and torso, his toes curled and tacked on the wood flooring. He was sure he would burst at any moment, but now he cared, he really didn't want to ruin his first time, he didn't want to disappoint Fushimi. His eyes screwed shut as Fushimi's fingers traced idly over his lower abdomen, that mouth kissed, sucked, lapped and bit at his chest. Yata felt like he was being coiled and uncoiled in an infinite loop.

"Stay right there," Fushimi ordered huskily, eyes heavy and dark, he didn't leave until Yata nodded lightly. 

As Yata stood in the hall way leaning against the wall wearing nothing but candy stripe socks, nerves began to rise in his stomach like butterflies chased from tall grass. This would be Fushimi's first time with him, but it wouldn't just be his first time with Fushimi, it'd be his first time full stop. He looked around, not knowing what to do with his eyes, they caught on the simply framed photograph on the adjacent wall further down the hall. It was of those mountains made by the shift and flow of ice, made of solid ice, white, grey, blue with a hint of green. The image took Yata with a kind of awestruck loneliness, such a beautiful place that he knew he'd never see. A path untracked by man, a beautiful lone organic structure that only the elements could touch. 

Glacial blues came into view, pale and distant as always, there was a heavy sharp predatory glint to them. A flash of white appeared in that charming smile, Yata felt like he was evaporating, turning into condensation on Fushimi's glasses. 

"Turn around please," Fushimi said softly against Yata's slightly parted lips. 

Yata moved as though he were under a spell and pressed his forehead against the wall, his fingertips smoothed over the wallpaper and the tips of his toes gazed the skirting board. Fushimi's foot tapped against the inside of Yata's calf, he quickly got the hint and widened his stance. Lips left feather light touches over the space between his shoulder blades, the barely there touches made him twitch, shiver, whine and sigh. He could feel the heavy presence of Fushimi's body looming behind him. Wet fingers caressed the small of his back, a cool thick liquid trailed it's way slickly between his buttocks. 

The tip of his penis rubbed against the wall as he shivered again, Yata first wondered if it would leave a stain and how embarrassing that would be, seeing that every time he entered the apartement. He knew he'd been blushing from the tip of his ears and down his throat, but he'd been too turned on and frustrated to care, he was very conscious of it then though. Both of Fushimi's hands came upon Yata's backside, fingers curled into the supple flesh. Fushimi's wet right hand crawled over to Yata's puckered hole, a finger traced the sensitive twitching skin there.

"I-I don't-" Yata cut himself off with a high keening noise as Fushimi's finger dipped shallowly inside and pulled back out again, he clawed at the wall. "I don't think I'm gonna last long, Saru," he looked over his shoulder uncertainly, Fushimi was enraptured. 

Everything Yata did was driving him 'round the bend and it was taking him everything he had to not bend the boy over the kitchen counter and be done with it. He wrapped the fingers of his free hand around Yata's chin as he continued to caress him between them, Fushimi couldn't help but fiercely shove their lips together, not when Yata's features wavered like that. Glistening eyes, furrowed brow and trembling lips pulled Fushimi in. The kiss was harsh, their lips pressed together as hard as possible, their teeth clacked against each other. 

"It's fine," he said breathlessly against Yata's bruised lips, "I have a solution," the curl of a smile was evident in his voice and it sent heat shooting down to Yata's toes. Fushimi bent to the floor and plucked up his discarded tie, he bent over Yata's small frame, head rested on the younger's shoulder as his hands came around either side of his body. He tied the tie around Yata's member tightly and nibbled at the flesh under his mouth distractedly. 

"U-um, is that ok?" Yata worried hands braced flat on the wall. 

"Perfectly so," Fushimi huffed into Yata's ear causing the latter the wince.

A slick finger pressed into Yata and brought him from fretting thoughts, it was a strange feeling of being filled. Fushimi thrust his finger in and out of Yata, it felt unusual but pleasant as he leaned fully upon the wall. Just as he was getting used to the feeling a second finger was added, he could feel the slight stretch and it hurt for a while. He soon got used to two, scissoring, twisting and thrusting inside of him and began to pant. Three hurt but then he knew he'd get used to it and the pleasure would return.

"This is going to hurt Misaki," Fushimi warned, a courtesy for Yata and Yata alone, he pressed the tip of his penis against Yata's puckered hole and slowly pressed inside. 

Yata grit his teeth as his hand scrambled over the wall, Fushimi didn't lie about it hurting. The taller stopped when he was fully inside and Yata panted hard with the side of his face press flat against the wall. It was a difficult angle, Yata was on his tiptoes and Fushimi had to bend down slightly to accommodate for the height difference. 

"I'm gonna start moving okay?" Fushimi said once Yata's breathing had evened out.

"Just get on with it you fuck," Yata growled and Fushimi laughed fondly.

Fushimi started out with light shallow thrusts before picking up a steady pace that Yata could get accustomed to, he held the younger's hips in an even grip. They breathed together in a constant rhythm of small gasps and heavy groans. Once Fushimi was satisfied, he pulled out, span Yata around, hoisted the redhead into his arms and brought Yata's legs over his shoulders. 

Fushimi carefully guided Yata down upon his penis, Yata's head was spinning and he could barely keep up. The new angle allowed Fushimi to go deeper and Yata drew out a moan as he descended upon the taller. Fushimi braced them against the wall and began to thrust in earnest, a punishing pace that had Yata holding onto Fushimi wherever he could. 

A slow dull burn quickly turned into a wild fire, a kiss that was more Fushimi grunting into Yata's hair and Yata keening against Fushimi's cheekbone. Yata was doubled over between Fushimi and the wall, sure to ache later but then he was mentally praising the taller for such an inspired idea. His back stuck to the wall, hair stuck to his face and his legs felt sticky upon Fushimi's shoulders. 

A choked gasp of a sharp inhale had Fushimi smirking wickedly and he picked up in speed and force pulling louder and stronger moans from the redhead. Fushimi tugged on the tie pulling free the knot, Yata came with a surge and a strangled cut off moan of Fushimi's name. The older followed shortly, twitching and stuttering with Misaki on his lips. 

They laid in a heap on the floor, limbs tangled together, a mix of sweat and semen glistened on their skin. Fushimi had never looked at anyone the way that he looked at Yata then, he knew very well about afterglow and this was not it. Right then in his eyes, Yata was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, nothing compared.

Those small sharp features, that explosive attitude, the fiery exterior that belied the caring and kindness beneath, that fierce glint in those warm amber eyes, the almost constant cursing contrasted with that shining politeness, that deep cherry blush, that hot lightly tanned skin, the constantly scraped knees of a boy, that awestruck wanderlust, that faith in humanity, that sharp but gentle smile, the steady rise and fall of a chest, the wavering but determined look. The way Yata saw right through him and poked at the truth, the way that Yata was looking at him then. He loved it all, he loved Yata. 

A shadow appeared at the edge of his vision. 

He loved Yata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, plot, do you guys remember that, you know, the plot. Whatever.  
> Sorry to keep you guys waiting, but this chapter was really important to me to get right. And it's been well over a month since I wrote a sex scene and I wanted to take the time to get that right as well.  
> I don't wanna write a whole AN of excuses but here's just an update on me if you're interested. I've been doing 30 hours a week the past three weeks and I've been stupid tired. It's also been really hot here and I break in heat, I seriously tried to start writing this like three times but my brain was melting.   
> Anyway, this is the work I'm most proud of and most excited to write so I'm never going to give up on this no matter how busy I get.   
> Thanks guys for the continued support and kudos, it really makes my day to know that others like my work. :3


	13. Chapter 13

No, that, that didn't happen, that was just a day dream he'd had in his younger and stupider days. Fushimi tried to shake the shadows from his periphery and they left, he pushed it to the back of his mind and dismissed it as a part of his neurosis and commitment issues. 

He buried his head deep into the crook of Yata's neck and breathed in an entire lung full of the other's scent. Yata giggle and the sound was like angles singing, the stuttering rise and fall of the smaller's chest felt like a grand ballet against his abdomen. The dizzying spin of the world was overwhelming him with its warmth, the inky shadows began to claw at the edges of his vision again. 

Fushimi ignored it, he knew it wasn't real, of course it wasn't real, how could something so absurd be real, it was all bullshit that his shitty mind was creating because he couldn't ever allow himself to be happy. Fushimi Saruhiko happy? He scoffed lightly into Yata's hair as he rose with the other cradled in his arms. 

Yata snaked his arms around Fushimi's neck and pulled his face toward the skin there, pressed his nose against the pulse. He smiled wide into that flesh, left chaste kisses there. He was so happy, he was giddy, he could have laughed all night he was full to the brim with bliss. His fingers curled in the hair at Fushimi's nape, he thought then that the world, heck the universe, really was just the two of them in that moment. 

Fushimi gently placed Yata upon the bed, they crawled under the covers and entwined their limbs with sighs of bliss. They stared at each other, smiling at the other's goofy love-struck expression. The words filled Fushimi's chest, clawed up his throat and gripped his tongue, fear and anxiety made him swallow them. He didn't want to say something like that the too early or at the wrong time, he decided that he'd wait until Yata said it first. 

"I wonder if you're wall is going to be stained," Yata said half thoughtfully and half through laughter, quickly dispelling stupid thoughts from Fushimi's mind. 

"Dunno," he shrugged lightly. 

"But seriously, what the fuck took you so long?" Yata barked and lightly punched Fushimi's shoulder. 

"Have you seen Vanilla Sky with Tom Cruise?" Fushimi asked tone light and airy, Yata softly shook his head. "Well in that movie, Tom Cruise's character says that he likes to wait until the moment where it's the only thing that can possibly happen next in that relationship before making a move," he explained, hands making vague gestures in the space between them. 

"You pretentious fuck," Yata frowned, brows dipping deeply into a scowl. 

"No my Misaki, I'm just cultured and have more restraint than you," Fushimi patronised ruffling Yata's hair with a deft hand, "but don't worry once you finish puberty, you'll eventually mature one day," he cooed fondly, Yata batted his hand away and glared.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure that you're just a prick," Yata said with conviction and wriggled into Fushimi's embrace. Fushimi's arms curled around his small frame, encircling him and pulling him close. He plucked the glasses off the other's face and placed them upon the bedside table behind the taller. "Goodnight asshole," Yata said endearingly and pressed his lips against Fushimi's nose. 

"Goodnight sweetheart," Fushimi crooned and kissed the top of Yata's head. 

Darkness encompassed them.

~~~

Fushimi walked along the sun soaked street hand in hand with his divine Misaki, he felt like skipping and his heart was fit to burst with joy. His face hurt from smiling so much, but how could he not smile when his world was smiling back at him. It was almost too good to be true. 

Suddenly there was a void beside him and his hand became empty, Fushimi spun around to find the sun blocked by an infinitely deep darkness. An inky blackness began to press against the edge of _his_ sun.

Fushimi's entire body flushed cold, as though his veins were filled with ice. He could only stand there in shock as the darker than black darkness consumed his universe. He couldn't even move, his feet were glued to the floor, his joints were set in place and his throat was clogged. All he could do was watch and cry as the distant sound of laughter rattled around his skull.

~~~

Fushimi sat bolt upright, the duvet pooled around his waist. He sat there breathing hard, chest heaving as the room slowly stopped spinning. 

Ah, just a dream. 

He turned to where Yata had been to find an empty space, the clock shone from the bedside table on the other side of the bed. eleven am, of course Yata would be up there was really no reason at all to be alarmed. 

A quiet gurgling laughter seemed to come from the darkest corner of the room, Fushimi didn't take his eyes away from it as he fumbled behind himself for his glasses. He slipped them on slowly and eyed the shadows, it seemed far too dark for the light that filtered through the blinds and shone directly onto that corner. 

A dull ringing of fear fizzed through Fushimi's nervous system, all dregs of sleep escaped him in that instant. His entire existence came crashing down around him, his whole life wound backward like a tape rewound, stopped at a certain point and played for Fushimi's viewing pleasure. 

The laughter grew in volume and voices, the shadow spread along the walls like mould. 

Fushimi grabbed some underwear and scrambled out of bed, on a mission to find Yata. All the while berating himself, a constant mantra of _how could I be so fucking stupid_ circled his mind as he made his way to the kitchen. 

Yata was there deftly making breakfast with skills that Fushimi was quietly envious of and awed by. He was all golden hair and shimmering skin as he stood over the stove in one of Fushimi's dress shirts. Fushimi tried not to notice that Yata was not wearing underwear and swallowed thickly. 

There was only one thing Fushimi could think of to resolve the situation or at least stall it long enough for him to think of an agreeable solution. It was going to be messy and nasty and probably the worst thing he'd ever done, but fuck he'd do whatever he could for Yata. 

He opened his mouth as Yata turned toward him, frying pan in hand, the boy was practically sparkling. Fushimi huffed air through his nose and doubled down in his determination. 

"Mornin' darling, how do ya like your e-" Yata beamed but was cut off.

"Get the fuck out off my home," Fushimi's entire being shook with the wrongness, hands fisted at his sides. 

"Excuse me?" Yata's brows were high, his mouth twitched as though it didn't know whether to frown or smile. Fushimi felt a knife's stab of guilt twist in his gut and he wanted to throw up, but he bit it back and solidered on. 

"You heard me or are you really _that_ stupid?" Fushimi mustered all the venom he had for everything that wasn't the wonderful boy in front of him and used it on Yata. The other's visage contorted with confusion, amber eyes swam. "Wow, you really are that stupid, it's always so nice to destroy something so innocent and naive," he force a wicked smirk upon his lips, it hurt so much he could have laughed so he did, it would add to the desired effect at least. 

"You're kidding right, please tell me that this is your twisted shitty idea of a joke, Saru?" Yata's voice wavered, teetering on the edge of despair. He tilted his head to the side as he said Fushimi's name so intimately, it was the least Fushimi deserved, this searing pain. 

"No," Fushimi said with firm conviction, "I am not joking, I am done with you, you got that?" His performance was perfect, subtle but just enough to make that flicker of doubt in Yata grow into an inferno, he should have been a politician. Yata's lips quivered and water built up at the corner of his eyes, he opened and closed his mouth several times. "Is it really that hard to believe, I did tell you what I wanted at the start," Fushimi shrugged twisting the knife deeper into both of them, Yata gently placed the frying pan upon the island counter and took a shuddering breath. 

"No, I don't believe you, you're just scared, you're just a shitty guy with a shitty personality that's terrified of commitment. You're terrified of falling in love with me, you love me and I fucking know it!" Yata's voice began as a bark and crescendoed into a horse yell, the tears welling in his eyes threatened to spill. His entire frame shook as he fought himself, strengthening his resolve with the knowledge that Fushimi was a complete and total idiot over him. "You can't tell me otherwise, you can't tell me that what I feel isn't real," he gripped the shirt over his chest, "I know you love me because I love you," he filled those words with everything he had, everything he felt for the other was in them.

A bitter rasp and rattle of a laugh speared him, Yata's eyes narrowed in on Fushimi's jagged form. His blood was the first thing that betrayed him, a blush spread across his face as he thought of the words that were shared the first time he visited this apartment. Fushimi strode toward him, placed his hands upon Yata's shoulders and came eye level to the smaller. 

"I do not love you," Fushimi stated and stared deeply into Yata's wet eyes.

That's it, that's what it takes to make Yata snap. The levels were changed, all the blinding conviction that Fushimi was his and he was Fushimi's became a harsh and burning knowledge that Fushimi is a complete scumbag. 

"Fine," he seethed, throwing Fushimi's arms off of him as he stormed into the bedroom. He would not allow himself to break in front of the other, he would not give Fushimi the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He pulled the shirt up and over his head and threw it viscously upon the floor. Yata rushed to put his clothes on, not wanting to be there a second longer. He took a moment to survey the room, making sure hadn't left anything behind. 

Fushimi didn't follow Yata into his room, real terror built a barrier around the perimeter of the room. All kinds of images came to his mind as his heart hammered against his ribs, thoughts of Yata being devoured by the darkness consumed him. He smiled bitterly at the sheer strength of his cowardice, how it had ruled him his entire life. 

He listened to Yata slam the bedroom door so hard it bounced against the frame and cracked into the wall. He could hear Yata punch the elevator button, could hear the irritated and impatient tapping of the other's foot. The elevator dinged and Yata left silently, Fushimi was left alone with the growing shadows that curled around the corner of the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I was welling up proof reading this. I can not stop writing this story though, I really really love it. Thanks for all the kudos and comments I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying it.


	14. Chapter 14

The elevator doors slid shut and Yata was confronted by his reflection, his mouth began to quiver. He didn't have nearly enough energy within him to hold back anymore, he rest his back against the cold metal wall and let the tears silently roll down his face. 

He grimly strode through the lobby and crashed his shoulder into the heavy door, punishing himself. He trudged home as though his shoes were squelching with water, eyes firmly on the ground as the continued flow of tears stung and stuck against his cheek. 

Upon closing the door to his apartment Yata slumped against it and crumpled to the floor. He gave up and let the sobs thunder through his body, tears, snot and saliva ruined is face. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that he was prepared for this, that knew Fushimi would do something like this. He did know that Fushimi would eventually do something like this, but he was unprepared for the crushing feeling upon his heart. 

Yata eventually managed to crawl into bed having convinced himself that Fushimi would call him, if not tomorrow then eventually. He gripped the blankets firmly against his face, strongly hoping that this wasn't the end.

~~~

At the sound of the elevator doors closing, Fushimi collapsed to the floor, legs folding underneath him like paper. 

"Long time no see Saru-chan," the cloying shadows flicked around the kitchen units before drawing together to form a humanoid figure. "Did you forget about me," it tilted its head giggling darkly. 

Fushimi clicked his tongue determined to ignore the demon and come up with a way out of this. This situation he put himself in, his nails dragged across the wood flooring as he fisted his hands at his sides.

_How could I have been so stupid, how could I have been so short sighted? Ah, of course, I was a stupid lonely twisted kid that didn't think about anything but the immediate moment before me. What a fucking retard. Of course it's myself that destroys my own happiness._

He sighed, leaning his head upon the base of the kitchen island. What to do, only questions circled his mind. He had to clear his head, he had to claw his way out of the dark whirlpool of self loathing. It had been awhile since he'd been there. 

"Saru~," the shadow called down from beside him, "please don't ignore me, you're hurting my feelings," it curled in on itself in mock hurt. 

"What do you want?" Fushimi seethed, slit eyes glaring up at the figure. 

"Oh, don't be coy boy, you know what I want," a smoking tendril curled round Fushimi's chin and tilted it up toward the centre of the darkness. Fushimi brushed it off and got to his feet, he picked up the discarded frying pan and stared at the half cooked contents. His favourite breakfast, omelettes, a sickly cloying warmth churned through his stomach. 

"I'm not in love," maybe if he said it over and over it would somehow become true. He glared at the pan knowing he'd have to scrap the most probably delicious breakfast because eggs were the only thing he couldn't cook. 

"Of course," the shadow's multiple voices snarked with varying levels of sarcasm. It leaned itself against the wall and eyed Fushimi from across the room. 

"Tch," Fushimi clicked his tongue again as he binned the uncooked food and shoved the frying in the sink. His lips twisted together, if he asked the question floating around his head he'd make his intentions obvious. Then it would go and eat Yata, his frown deepened. 

"Umm, Saru, you're gonna be late for work," shadow said simply as it pointed toward the clock above its head. 

"Nice try, but it's Saturday," Fushimi said sharply as he scrubbed the pan under the hot tap. He'd have to keep his wits about him if he was going to get the better of it. 

"Can't blame a guy for trying to a have a bit of fun," it snickered, the shadow convulsed as the harsh sound rattled out of it.

"So this is still a game right?" Fushimi raised a brow, looking at toward the shadow from over his shoulder. 

"Yes," Fushimi could hear the sharp psychotic smile cracked across the thing's excuse for a face. 

"Then I just have to win," Fushimi shut off the tap, set the pan aside and leaned his back against the counter. 

"You win by dying without ever falling in love," the shadow stated darkly.

"No, there's always another way, in the stories there's always another way," Fushimi was at the end of his rope, he'd all but revealed his hand. All that was going on in the back of his mind was the thought that this thing would eat Yata, would destroy the most beautiful being that Fushimi had ever come across and it would be entirely his fault. 

"Did I hit a nerve Saru?" What was meant to be its head twisted round and around as it tried to suppress fits of giggles. "Are you feeling feelings for that matchstick?" It sounded practically giddy. Fushimi snapped at the shadow's referral to Yata, his Yata. 

"Isn't there anything else? Anything?" Fushimi wrung his hands in the air, he was smart and smarter than most, but the thought of having Yata snatched away from him ground all of his higher functions to a halt. All his skills in manipulation, persuasion, coercion and bargaining vanished at the sheer terror that thundered through his veins. 

"Don't ever fall in love then," the demon shrugged and kicked itself from the wall, "it's that simple Saru~," its face twisted round and around, a crescent shaped void appeared in the shadow where a mouth might have been. 

Fushimi scowled, brows furrowed deeply together and his mouth pressed into a firm line. The pieces all land together in his mind, like an annoyingly easy child's floor puzzle, all he has to do is make himself feel nothing for Yata because if he feels nothing then he won't think about him.


	15. Chapter 15

Fushimi stared at the clock on his desk, glared at it as though he were willing it to crack. It'd been a week and he was slowly dying, all the life draining out of him. It had been far harder to not think about Yata than he had first thought, he had been naive again. 

Yata had been his entire world for just over a month, it was going to take more than seven days to stop day dreaming. He felt pathetic spinning around in circles in his desk chair. His job wasn't particularly taxing or interesting, which gave him a lot of spare time and let his mind wonder. And in the last six weeks it had been wondering to the small ball of energy with glorious orange locks. 

Fushimi shook his head, trying to dispel the image of the other from his mind. Instead he thought of how he got there, why had he tried to kill himself all those years ago. He could hardly remember. Thirteen year olds are an unstable mix of complex emotions, hormones and growing pains, he had been understandably fragile although the thought irritated him. 

~~~

Thirteen years ago, Fushimi Saruhiko sat at his desk staring out the window and completely ignored everyone around him. It was nearing the end of his first year of middle school, most of the trees outside were beginning to bloom pink. Fushimi rested his chin in the palm of his hand and sighed, bored. 

Their exam results were out and no one congratulated him on being the top of their year, exactly as he had expected. Of course no one cared so why should he care about them? Most were disappointed with their results vowing to try harder next time, Fushimi scoffed. Only the weak made mistakes. 

He felt like a mistake, like a glitch in this world, an anomaly. He did not fit in anywhere. Too aware and too smart to be the perfect little boy his parents wanted. Too cynical and full of himself to be popular. Too cold and uninterested to be what the girls wanted him to be. 

Fushimi would laugh at every heartfelt confession, as if they really knew him. They had no idea what he wanted, naive and innocent. The world was too harsh and unforgiving a place for them to survive, they were too weak to stand by his side. 

His time was consumed by equal parts self loathing and egocentricity, it made his head spin he could hardly keep up with himself. His parents would argue constantly and he would think either: _'this is my fault'_ or _'one day I'll escape from this because I am better than this'_. He dreamed of being away, getting away, running away, just somehow not being there. 

Fushimi didn't know at the time, but there was a deep set loneliness like no other etched into his heart. It painted the glasses he saw through with resent and longing, it wasn't a kind of longing he could define at the time but it was the same kind of every teenager feels at some point. The longing to be understood. 

The thing with teenagers is that everyone understands because they all went through the same thing, that's why nobody wants to help. It might be because they went through it alone so you can too, or it's so repetitive get over yourself and be unique, boring, same shit different day. Teenagers want validation, they want you to see them as an individual and not as an annoying melodramatic child that's trying too hard to be different. They're trying so hard because they're fighting to find out who they are, before you're thirteen it was okay to say _'hey I'm Fushimi, I'm eight and my favourite game is megaman.'_ When you're a teenager people expect you to have an opinion on things, to make your own judgment but they won't trust it. It's a contradictory time where everything is hard and intense and all your parents do is say _'wait until you have to pay the bills'_ condescendingly.

Fushimi was just like any other teenager, but also very much like himself. He had let the opinions and teachings of his parents cloud his judgment on everything around him. It wasn't that he agreed with them, the impact of their words and actions had just penetrated deep within him.

During elementary, Fushimi had built an ant farm for a school project. It was his pride and joy, he had made it all on his own and it was his alone. He treasured it, watched the insects go here and there through most of the day. Fushimi had never had many, if any, friends, so the ant farm consumed him. It became an obsession, something to stave away the loneliness that already had its icy grip upon his heart. 

The day before the project was due, his father destroyed it. Glass, dirt and ants scattered everywhere in their spacious green house. Upon looking up at his father's gleeful face, Fushimi felt a profound pain. He had not been injured, but his chest physically hurt. His eyes stung and his mouth quivered, he did not want to look weak but the hurt and injustice he felt stole his will from him. 

Years later standing in that bathroom, house like a sprawling maze, completely alone, Fushimi thought about that incident. His father had taken pleasure from destroying something he loved, so he came to the conclusion that his father did not care for him, for how could someone who cared for you hurt you? His mother had never done anything to stop his father's hideous acts and therefore she also did not care for him. This was a house full of people that did not care for each other, Fushimi had tried. He had tried and tried to get their attention, to make them proud, to put a smile on their faces, he decided that the only way to make them happy was to not get in their way. He thought this of everyone.

Fushimi stared at his reflection, if staying out of everyone's way was the only way that he could make them happy then why not make it permanent? Sure, there'd be the mess he'd make of the bathroom, but that'd only take a couple of hours clean up and the room would look good as new. This world had nothing to offer him and he had nothing to offer to it, so he slashed his wrists. 

~~~

Fushimi turned his gaze out the window, the view was beautiful and he was an idiot. Sure all teenagers were idiots to one degree or another, but Fushimi had really gone the whole nine yards and then some. If he had actually tried to have a conversation with someone, anyone, during his teenage years, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. If he had gotten his head out of his arse he could have had a chance. 

His parents didn't exactly help, first approval and praise, then disapproval and lastly indifference; maybe a little joyous destruction of self image. Fushimi had been the one to condemn himself, had been the one who decided that he wasn't good enough, that no one liked him, that he wasn't worthy. Fushimi sighed at the sun hanging low in the sky that cascaded golden light through and off the surrounding buildings. 

Either way he had tried a permanent solution to a temporary problem, so many people had and have it worse than him. He was being selfish again, the smell of sweet coffee drifted up his nose and the sickly sweet smell of the red head came to mind. His vision overflowed with images of that pure soft skin, cute little face framed by bright unruly locks, fiery amber eyes and that wicked razor sharp smile. 

Fushimi wished he had died back there in that bathroom, wished he hadn't picked up the razor at all, wished he hadn't been born, wished that he'd met Yata when he was thirteen, wished that the darkness in his periphery would leave him be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, I got a new job and they gave me a book to read.


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks and Yata had reached his limit for mistakes allowed, he'd been fired. The manager had spoken to him many times about knowing what he was going through and how heartbreak was a hard thing to deal with but we all went through it at some point. When she finally had enough of him, he thought, maybe a little melodramatically, that she obviously had no idea what he was going through. 

The pain in his chest was so profound he couldn't begin to explain it, it ached to do anything. He'd lay in bed for hours doing nothing, he didn't have the energy to move, didn't have the motivation to do anything. He stayed in bed most days.

Four weeks and his sister had gotten his landlady to unlock his door because he hadn't answered it in days. She spoke to the landlady quietly just outside the door, Yata could hear but he didn't care to discern the words. She closed the door, bidding the landlady farewell with a heartfelt thanks and silently cleaned Yata's one room apartment. It seemed like hours before she spoke. 

"Misaki," her voice came soft and tentative, Yata looked up from his pillow to see her leaning against the sink, washcloth in hand. "Jeez Misaki, what happened?" Her brow furrowed with concern and Yata remembered that he needed that job for his family. Guilt heavy like tar climbed into his throat. 

"Something stupid," his voice was dry and cracked, his breath tasted vile. He almost laughed at the sheer stupidity of it all. 

"Details?" Her voice rose at the end as she waved her hand in the air. Yata took his time sitting up, he vaguely wondered what day it was, what time it was. His sister sighed. "Maybe we should clean you up first," she suggested. 

~~~

Hours later in a completely different cafe across town that Yata had never been in, he sat with his sister eating more than he ever remembered eating. 

"So..." his sister trailed off, "you ever going to tell me what happened?" She leaned over her coffee, elbows coming to the small table. Yata took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. 

"I fell in love," he said it as though he'd contracted a fatal illness, "with a complete and total asshole," he sneered at the half eaten chocolate cake in front of him, the rich colour reminded him of Fushimi's hair. His sister hummed and nodded, urging him to continue. "Well, he isn't really an asshole, he's just got a lot of issues that make him act like a prick," he mused as he pressed his fork deep into the slice of cake. 

"Ah, so it's another man, I thought as much," she smirked, making Yata a little flustered, "What happened then?" His sister said softly as she brought her coffee to her mouth. 

"Well, he was always coming to the cafe solely to wind me up, but he sort of saved my life twice, I think, then he tried to seduce me and he did, but then he backed off, then he was an ass, then we just talked a lot for a while and then..." Yata trailed off at the memory of his first and only time, face going red as he met his sister's eyes. Amber mirrored amber before she started to laugh at him. "S-shut up!" He barked, fumbling with the edge of the table. 

"Aww, well my baby brother finally did it!" She held her hand daintily over her mouth. "But obviously something happened otherwise you would have at least answered mum's calls," she waved her hand over the table between them.

"Mum called me?" Yata yelled incredulously, how far gone was he?

"Yes mum called," his sister sighed, "get to the point, unlike my freeloading brother I have a job to go to," she prodded with a smile, Yata scowled but didn't take the bait for once.

"Well, he has really bad commitment issues because he's never really had any friends and his parents are fucking ugh I dunno, there aren't enough bad words to describe them, but they really fucked him up. I mean he has a huge difficulty connecting to others, has next to no empathy because he doesn't to connect to them," his sister continued to nod and hum as he nervously went on. "He's so terrified of hurting people and getting hurt that he never tries to connect to anyone, but it was so different between us. I dunno Sara, I-I," Yata swallowed the lump in his throat, just trying to get the stupid words out, "I think he's like my soul mate, like I dunno, I just get him and he just gets me, ugh!" He yelled as he jammed the fork in the cake, Sara smiled pleasantly at him. 

"So what went wrong?" She sipped calmly at her coffee, very much used to Yata's outbursts. 

"Well, er, the day after we...had sex," Yata annoyingly found himself battling himself to be mature, "he just acted really cold, told me he had got what he wanted from me, told me that he didn't love me and I just couldn't take the wrongness of it, I couldn't fucking argue with him anymore, he'd just deny it all anyway," he sighed twisting the fork in the cake, making a mess of it.

"And how long ago was that?" Sara quirked a brow.

"About a month, I think," he brought his phone from his pocket, fifty four missed calls, his inbox was full, guilt rose again within him as his thumbed for the calendar, "y-yeah a month ago," he said voice small and ashamed. 

"You're just going to let your 'soul mate'" Sara used air quotations, "go because you fell at the first hurdle, you fucking pick yourself back up and go get him," she quickly rounded the table, pulled Yata forcefully to his feet and smacked him on the back. 

"Now?!" His mouth twisted incredulously. 

"If not now then when?" Sara raised a brow at him.

~~~

Yata trudged toward Fsuhimi's apartment complex, he constantly went over what he'd do and say as he moved one foot after the other. First he'd just confidently walk through the lobby, watching Fushimi had shown him that confidence could get you into parliament without an id badge. Then he'd get to the pent house, if Fushimi wasn't there he'd just wait, he knew the code anyways. If Fushimi was there, he wouldn't let the fucker get a word in edgeways. 

Getting in the apartment proved as easy as it could have been, the elevator dinged and Yata was relieved to not have to stare at his ragged reflection anymore. As the doors slid aside, something felt fundamentally wrong. Not that anything had moved, but everything felt darker. Yata squinted through the darkness, the blinds were wide open and it had only just passed two in the afternoon. Anxiety swelled in his stomach, he slowly and quietly stalked through the hallway. 

"S-saru?" Yata called as he rounded the end of the hallway. Fushimi sat bolt upright on the couch, making Yata yell as he jumped. "Fucking asshole," he screamed as he stomped toward the other. 

"W-what are you doing here?!" Fushimi screamed, his voice wavered with fear that Yata didn't notice. Yata did notice the state of the room, worse than his had been, the dark circles under the other's eyes mirroring Yata's own. Fushimi's glasses flew across the room as the slap rang out in the quiet space. 

"You're not allowed to be fucked up, you did this to me?" Yata could feel the tears beginning to sting the corner of his eyes, he decided that this was more important than his pride and let them fall. "Just get the fuck over yourself and come back to me," his fingers curled in Fushimi's collar, "Saru please," he pleaded with his eyes, searching for something deep within Fushimi's icy blues. 

"Misaki, I-" Fushimi's voice broke into a sob before he looked away, unable to face what he'd done to the other. "You need to go," he said in a quiet and broken voice. 

"Wha-why?" Yata's lips pulled back over his teeth, silence followed his words. "I love you, you fucking idiot, you at least owe a reason," he shook Fushimi by the collar, the latter sighed. Fushimi rose from the couch and took a deep breath.

"Well, when I was thirteen, I tried to kill myself, but some sort of demon made of shadows came and made a deal with me, he'd give me back my life if I let him steal the soul of someone precious to me. So I thought, yeah fuck love, I'm never going to fall in love, made the deal and completely forgot about it, until the morning after we made love when I saw it and it said it was going to take you away from me if I fell in love with you. Do you see my problem Misaki?" Fushimi wrung his hands in the air exasperated.

"What?" Yata yelled incredulously after a beat.


	17. Chapter 17

Yata stood there blinking for several seconds, Fushimi stared right back at him. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Yata threw his hands into the air. "What the actual fuck was that? I-I don't even- I can't begin to, ugh!" He punched the wall beside him, his fist sang in pain.

"It's the truth, you can choose not to believe it if you want," Fushimi shrugged. 

Yata stared in disbelief as the tears came anew, streaming down his features. His mouth stammered, opening and closing, a thousand useless questions rose in his throat. He closed his mouth as he realised how hard Fushimi was pushing him, it felt like a battering ram crushing its pressure against his chest. He was at a complete loss, marooned, staring down a dark, dingy and hope consuming dead end. 

"I can't listen to this shit anymore Saru," Yata said slowly eyes wide with drying tears on his cheeks. 

"I-I understand," Fushimi said to his shoes, hurt he knew he didn't have the right to feel swelled within him. 

Yata began his slow funeral march to the elevator, the room seemed to be slightly brighter. Fushimi looked up from the floor to see fleeting shadows following Yata to the elevator doors. 

"Wait!" Fushimi slammed his fist into the closed doors. It was too late, there was nothing he could do. Fushimi fell to his knees, forehead pressed against the cool doors. "No," he seethed serpentine and marched toward the bathroom, grim determination stretched across his face. 

~~~

Yata leaned back against his apartment door and sighed heavily. He didn't know what to do with Fushimi, he still loved him and was willing to try as hard as he could, but he just didn't know what would work. 

Shadows cast at odd angles as Yata's mind whirred. Ink flew up the walls as Yata closed his eyes and choked back sobs. 

A stuttering gasp got stuck in his throat as something cold and hard wrapped around his heart. Yata opened his eyes and it was as though he hadn't. He tried to catch his breath, but no air came, a constant repetition of gasps. His ribs and shoulders began to ache, his throat burned with the effort, his eyes watered. His fingernail caught in the mat, twisting painfully in the flooring.

Suddenly a part of the darkness snaps, as though its attention were drawn somewhere else. The pressure relented and the shadow pulled back. Yata doubled over, coughing onto the floor. 

"That idiot may have just saved your life, but I'll be back for you my precious Misaki," the shadow's sinister voice sent Yata flush back against the door, eyes wide with terror as a part of the shadow that felt like a claw curled around his chin before it disappeared through the wall. 

~~~

Fushimi laid in the bathtub, concerned about mess this time, concerned about how he would look. He had his sharpest knife tightly gripped in his hands as he held over his exposed left wrist. His arms began to shake, his face turned hard as valiant chivalry tore apart his heart and screamed in his mind.

_I have to do this for Misaki, it's the only thing I can do._

He wiped away useless tears with his forearm, pushed down as hard as he could and swiped. Changed hands and repeated. Blood shot in spurts and starts from the seams in his wrists, staining the bottom of his shirt and his pants. 

Darkness sneaked in from the crack under the door and towered above him. 

"Now, what do we have here," the shadow tutted, eyes roving over Fushimi's lifeless form.

"Take my soul instead," Fushimi smiled, blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth, "it's the one you wanted anyways," he tilted his head leadingly. 

The shadow man made a humming thoughtful noise and looked deep in consideration, inky tendrils curled in on themselves. It began to laugh manically as it twisted and turned impossibly. 

"Sure Saru, why not," it said smirk evident in its voice. It tried to touch Fushimi limply laying in the bathtub, but to no avail. "Hmmm?" It hummed anger stirring it's inquisitive tone as it tried harder, clawing at Fushimi's chest. 

The ceiling fell in on them, torn apart by blinding light. 

"Nah-uh, this one is mine, he promised," the shadow hissed at the light and received no reply.

The light bore down upon the shadow, making it smaller and smaller. The shadow screeched just before it dispersed into vapour that burnt into nothing in the radiant rays of the light. It was all Fushimi could see. 

~~~

It took a beat for the spinning of the world to catch up with Yata before he scrambled to his feet and back out the door. He bounded down the metal staircase, staggered as his foot awkwardly caught the edge of the last step. He ran recklessly, arms and legs stretching yearning for more speed. He wanted his legs to eat up the ground, he wished for wings, wished for strength, wished for everything to be okay, he wore hope like armour made of glass. Heavy and fragile. 

His heart finally slowed at the sight before him in Fushimi's bathroom. Red, white and black in the bathtub, cleanly disposed of. Yata fumbled his phone from his pocket and jumped into the bathtub, straddling Fushimi.

"Saru, wake up, Saru please," he shook the other as the phone rang. A cough and splutter made Yata's chest sing.

"Misaki," Fushimi's eyes opened blearily as he smiled lopsided, "you're ok?" a limp bloody hand came up to cup Yata's cheek.

"Yes, yes, thanks to you Saru, I'm fine," Yata sobbed lightly as someone answered his call. "Yes, I need an ambulance, my boyfriend's slit his wrists," he kept eye contact with Fushimi's unfocused gaze as the taller's thumb rubbed away his tears. "yes he's conscious but I don't know if he will be for much longer, hmmm, ok, t-thanks," Yata shut his phone and dropped it somewhere between them. "Saru stay with me, please," he held Fushimi's face in his hands, trying to make him focus.

"I'm sorry Misaki, I can't," Fushimi choked, vision diminished to Yata's face and an all consuming blinding white light behind him.

"No, no you can't Saru," Yata pressed his forehead against the other's, "please Saru, please don't go," his mouth twisted down into a grimace, tears tarnishing Fushimi's pale face. 

"Misaki, it's okay, hush," the pads of Fushimi's fingers caught and slipped against the blood he'd left upon Yata's face. "It's okay because I got to love you," he smiled and pressed a weak kiss against Yata's trembling lips. 

Yata sobbed, begged and pleaded, holding Fushimi to himself as Fushimi slowly and quietly drifted away, caught in a gentle and calm current. 

~~~

The wind billowed around Yata's hunched frame, making his shirt and jacket flutter behind him. The weather above him hung heavy like baited breath, dark and ominous. 

"I promised that if you did something 'totally amazing'," Yata raised his fingers making air quotations, "I'd write you one of my kick ass poems," he giggled bitterly, tears still stinging his eyes. "W-well, here it is," he held the A5 piece of paper out toward the gravestone, the wind forced the crumpled paper around his fist. 

_Glacial heart like ice,  
flightless bird in a cage,  
melts mine and flies free. _

Yata bent down, folded the paper and placed it under a rock. He knelt there for some time, biting back every sob that wracked his body. He tightened his grip on the glasses in his fist, the frame creaked. 

Fushimi Saruhiko was a hero despite himself.

[ T H E E N D ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks, hope you liked. Thanks for the continued support, kudos and comments, it really keeps me going. xx


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